After reading Mim’s article last month about the local seabirds, Ellen Fernley took to the streets to hear their side of the story. Here’s what one gull had to say:
Alright, how’s it going? My name’s Steven. Steven C. Gull. Not to be confused with SEAgull. That would be ridiculous. I’m a herring gull. All this chat about “sea” gulls. They don’t exist. That’s you humans tarnishing all us gulls with the same brush because you can’t tell the difference between species. Get a bird book!
By the way, the C in my name – that stands for Chips. My favourite. Anyway, I live and breathe in North Shields. Word spreads quickly here, and I’ve been told that me and my mates had a scathing article written about us last month. Folk writing in telling everyone about their “horror stories” of us. Blasphemy. Wicked tells the story of the baddy from Wizard of Oz. Maleficent tells the story of the baddy from Sleeping Beauty. Joker tells the story of… well, Joker, from Batman. And now it’s my turn. Some people say we’re the pigeons of the sea. Don’t get me STARTED on people’s opinions on pigeons. You humans used to keep pigeons as pets. You used them to send messages for you back in the day. And now they’re living on the streets, half of them with one leg, because you lot have “post offices” now, so threw them out to fend for themselves. They’re little survivors given their back stories. Little warriors. And so are we. Me and my mates, we’ve been knocking around since the early Oligocene times. We’re talking 33 million years ago. Not me personally. My life span is probably around 20 years if I’m lucky. My mate says his mates’ dad lived to be 49. Madness. But my ancestors, they were there. We go way back. We were here long before you two legged, un- winged humans turned up. And we’ll be here long after you. We’re very resilient.
The smears of ice cream on the floor from kids who haven’t yet mastered the art of secure grip in their hands? Ever wondered why they disappear after a couple of days? Because me and my mates, we’re working tirelessly to clear up your mess. We gobble that up for you. When your drunk mates throw up in the street? We’ll eat that too. We’re doing our best to keep your streets tidy when you lot can’t make it to a toilet to be sick in, or can’t be bothered to find a bin. So forgive us when we see you strolling down the street, Greggs sausage roll in hand, and we act a bit… preemptively. We’re so used to finding your mess on our streets, so we just clean it up for you – before you get a chance to drop it. Not our fault if that means nabbing it from you before you’ve even eaten it. Precaution, innit. We’re good parents too. If we’ve got a nest, with our lovely, scruffy little grey chicks tucked away somewhere, we’ll make sure you humans don’t come anywhere near. Our nests are our families’ safe space. You wouldn’t like it if you had strangers letting themselves into your house, and walking past your beds as you and your loved ones slept. Neither do we. We stay together too. We mate for life. We’re loyal. I know loads of you humans aren’t. We’ve seen some of you stumble out of pubs and clubs with all sorts of different people on different nights! So stop giving us a bad rep. Stop taking swipes at us. We’re alright if you take a chance to get to know us and appreciate what we do for you. The world would be a better place if you human lot learned to live in harmony with other living, breathing creatures, no matter what they look like. Plus, you can get fined £5000 if you hurt us. We get nothing if we swoop at you. The Wildlife and Countryside act of 1981 has our back y’all. So think twice. Be nice. And don’t forget your place in the pecking order. We were here first. Gull power. Squawk.
